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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28325784">'tis the season</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/wewriteletters/pseuds/wewriteletters'>wewriteletters</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Prodigal Son (TV 2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Christmas, Gen, Pre-Series, malcolm has conflicted feelings about his father</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:34:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,265</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28325784</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/wewriteletters/pseuds/wewriteletters</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Malcolm comes home from college for the holidays and makes a surprise visit.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gil Arroyo &amp; Malcolm Bright, Malcolm Bright &amp; Martin Whitly</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>'tis the season</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Merry Christmas! Enjoy this silly fic I wrote in like two hours. Hopefully the new year brings more frequent writing.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Going home for winter break was always a mixed bag. </p><p>On one hand, Malcolm had to deal with his mother. Holidays had always been a big deal in the Whitly family. When he was a kid, Christmas meant parties and relatives he had never heard of coming to town. He and Ainsley always ended the holidays with a pile of gifts taller than themselves. They saw The Nutcracker at Met, went ice skating in Rockefeller Center, and decorated the four trees their mother put up around the house.</p><p>But Malcolm’s favorite part was always snuggling up in bed with his father and a cup of hot cocoa, while the older man read A Visit From St. Nicholas on Christmas Eve. Malcolm always fell asleep before the poem was over, but the warmth and comfort he felt lingered with him all night, as his father quietly stepped away and kissed him on the forehead. </p><p>Obviously, all that had changed when Malcolm was ten. Gone were the days of Christmas socials and ballets. No relatives came to visit anymore. Instead of attending holiday galas, his mother made private donations to toy drives and soup kitchens. </p><p>And there was certainly no hot cocoa and poem at bedtime on Christmas Eve.</p><p>His mother did her best to keep the season jolly for her children. They still got mountains of presents, but opening them in the morning never felt the same. Malcolm missed the books his father got him and how he would always wear a Santa hat while they opened gifts. His mother was always more stiff and awkward, looking to the children as if toys could solve the torn out piece in their family portrait. Ainsley was happy to play with her dolls, but Malcolm preferred to spend the rest of the day in his room, mourning what was lost.</p><p>Things got better when Gil married Jackie. Gil had been a part of their holiday season since after the arrest, but it usually just meant him driving Malcolm around New York to look at the snow. With Jackie now present, Malcolm basically had an entire other Christmas to look forward too. </p><p>His mother allowed him to spend Christmas Eve with them, so long as he was home before bed time. He and Jackie always baked cookies together, while Gil played Christmas carols on his record player. Even when money was tight, they always spoiled Malcolm with gifts, and, Malcolm hated to say it, they were always better and more personal than the ones bought by his mother, who was more likely to just buy him whatever the hot new toy of the season was, rather than getting something related to his interests. </p><p>Malcolm was older now, and away at college, but the holidays still brought up a lot of mixed feelings for him. He and Ainsley weren’t children anymore and their mother could no longer distract them with new toys or decorating the manor’s Christmas trees. Holidays were infinitely more awkward at the Whitly home, now that Malcolm had left the nest to pursue a career his mother did not approve of and Ainsley was an overly emotional fifteen year old. Christmas dinner was usually filled with passive aggressive remarks from Jessica about Malcolm’s choices in life, which were returned by her son, while Ainsley tried to play peacemaker. Because of this, Malcolm had been spending less and less time at his own home for the season, electing instead to stay with Gil and Jackie during the break. His mother insisted he be there for Christmas and he allowed her that gift, but he much preferred his time with the Arroyo’s.    </p><p>Malcolm had just flown in from Boston and was enjoying coffee with Gil at a small cafe that was covered floor to ceiling in Christmas decorations. The barista was wearing an elf hat and gave them both candy canes. </p><p>“So,” Gil said, settling down. “How has school been?”</p><p>It was the question Malcolm always dreaded. School was going great. He loved his professors and was making great progress with his studies. But Gil wasn’t asking about that. He was asking; “Did you make any friends?” “How are the night terrors?” “Are you keeping up with your appointments with Gabrielle?”</p><p>And most importantly: “Are you still taking those weekend trips to visit your father?”</p><p>Malcolm smiled and played along. “School is great. I’m working on a paper about Dahmer and his patterns of killing.”</p><p>“Festive,” Gil joked, taking a sip of his coffee.</p><p>Malcolm smirked. “You know crime doesn’t stop for Christmas.” Malcolm remembered a few occasions where Gil had to leave him and Jackie suddenly to go into the station to deal with something. Malcolm played with his candy cane wrapper, ready to change the subject. “How have you and Jackie been?”</p><p>“Same old,” Gil replied. “Jackie’s so excited to have you for dinner. She’s making some old family recipe that is so secret, I haven’t even been allowed in the kitchen.”</p><p>“Sounds delicious.” Jackie’s food always tasted better than whatever his mothers private chef cooked for them. Taking a quick glance at his watch, Malcolm realized he needed to head out if he was going to make his next appointment. “I have to get going, but I’ll see you tonight.”</p><p>“Stay safe, kid,” Gil replied, patting him on the shoulder as he stood up. Malcolm replied with a small smile and went to go call a cab. </p><p>------------------------------------</p><p>Malcolm stepped out of the taxi, the winter air nipping at his exposed ears. He pulled his scarf up and walked through the snow to the gigantic brick building. </p><p>The inside wasn’t any warmer. An old building like this, the insulation was probably paper thin. A string of Christmas lights with half the bulbs burned out wrapped around the walls. Malcolm clutched the paper bag in his hand even harder as he checked in at the front desk and had his person searched for weapons. After being cleared by security, the familiar face of Mr. David came out and led him down a long hallway.</p><p>Malcolm had been debating this all day. It wasn’t too late to turn around and leave, but he forced himself forward. </p><p>“My boy! Merry Christmas!” Malcolm heard his father before he even looked up at him. “Look what I got in the hospital gift exchange.” Martin held up a stuffed animal Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer from one of his shelves. “Isn’t it festive?”</p><p>“Very,” Malcolm replied as he pulled up a chair outside the cage his father was in. What a way to spend his Christmas Eve. </p><p>“I’m so glad you came to visit! I don’t usually get to see you this time of year.”</p><p>“I’ve been busy.”</p><p>“So, you just came by to wish your old man a merry Christmas?” Martin looked over his son, before noticing the bag he was carrying. “Is that a gift? For me? Oh, Malcolm, you shouldn’t have.”</p><p>“Something like that,” he replied. Malcolm slipped his hand and pulled out a small book. “It’s Christmas Eve. I thought we...could read it.” Malcolm paused, then added. “I’ll try not to fall asleep this time. Finally find out how the story ends.”</p><p>Martin’s face lit up like one of Jessica’s Christmas trees. “My boy, I would love too.”</p><p>Malcolm couldn’t help but put on a small smile. “Thank you, dad.” </p><p>After pushing the book through the bars, Malcolm watched his father settle down on his bed. He tried to imagine he was actually sitting next to him, a mug of hot cocoa in hand. </p><p>“Twas the night before Christmas…”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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